Death of a Consulting Detective

The End of All Things

October 21, 2013

It was raining heavily when the cab pulled up in front of the entrance to the pool. I turned up my coat collar to shield myself from the thick rain drops running off of the rooftop. One drop managed to seep through my coat and sent chills up my spine as I slowly opened the door.

The building looked exactly like it did when Sherlock and I were here. The pool was filled with clean water, the walls were tinted blue from the lights underneath the liquid surface, and there was an eerie silence that was nowhere near as peaceful as the silence in my flat or in Greg's car. It made the cold drop of water that ran down my neck feel rather comforting. I had a sense that something bad could happen; that I'm walking into a bloody trap. All I cared about now though was bringing this guy down regardless of any danger to my life. Hell if something happened to me right now at least my death would save a good amount of lives.

I walked around, looking at all the other doorways or rooms a man could hide in, but no one ever showed up. Was the bad feeling in my gut a false alarm? I should feel safe knowing the killer ditched me here. I don't though and it really bothers me. Goosebumps are running up my arms; the hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. There's something wrong, there has to be.

There's this sensation most human beings feel when someone is watching them. You don't necessarily have to catch them watching you in order to tell. It's such a strange thing how our minds can tell us these things. I don't understand why I am overcome by this sensation now when there is no visible threat before me.

He could be hiding, I thought.

"Uh..James? James Moran? Are you...Are you here?" I called out into the darkness.

A voice replied with no obvious point of origin.

"Sebastian Moran, actually."

I did a full 360. James- Sebastian Moran is nowhere to be seen.

"I thought your bloody name was James." I tried to remain alert to pinpoint the location of his voice. But the echo bounced off the walls making it impossible to do this.

"And I thought you could at least put two and two together, consulting detective."

"You..read my blog?"

"Everyone reads your goddamn blog Watson. That isn't important. Did you like my last piece of art by the way? Jim told me to call it the Reichenbach Fall after Mr. Holmes himself."

I thought back to the body that began one of the worst nights of my life.

"That was you then. Not Moriarty."

"Shit it really was obvious you know. Seeing as you loved a bloody genius detective."

Does anyone still care that I'm not actually gay?

"Why the Genesis theme? You don't sound overly religious to me."

"New beginnings dear John. You and I both had to start over after he jumped. At least he called you before he did it. Jim just shot himself in the fucking head."

These senseless questions were forming in my head to stall. I had dialed the number to phone the police as he spoke about all the things he did to get my attention. He went on and on - the small, black phone hidden behind my back - about his idea to form a fake identity based upon a real person (whom he had killed awhile back for Moriarty). He had paid people to pretend they knew James Moran. The apartment did belong to the actual Moran and the Sherlock lookalike was a body he stole from Bart's as soon as Molly turned her back. All of this was heard by some man working the phones at the station. The police should be here any minute then.